Poisoned
by sweetysmart0505
Summary: E/O CHALLENGE, Phrase: Dean has a fever. Dean's seriously sick... hospital sick. Possibly poisoned? And Sam's seriously worried. Happy Birthday Mad Server!


_Disclaimer: Everything belongs to their respective owners, Eric Kripke, the CW, WB._

**A/N**: So, I went a little - okay a lot - over the 1000 word limit even. Forgive me. The boys just needed a few more words, that's all. I hope this is suitable for Mad Server's birthday. Happy birthday!

This was also written in an hour or so, so forgive me for any mistakes.

Also, thank-you to **Jasper03** who suggested Food poisoning to me once!

Players: Check out Enkidu07's profile page.

Challenge Word:_ Dean has a Fever_

***SPOILERS***  
None

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**Poisoned**

Fire. The warmth felt good. He wished the flames would engulf him. Not that he knew why. It was a comfortably warm night, but for some reason... he was getting extremely chilly.... And he felt sick to his stomach. Hell, even his muscles weren't feeling to good right now. That was weird. He barely even did any running this hunt. His brother should be the one hurting. He was the one with the possible concussion.

Damn. Was... was the fire getting bigger? It was getting brighter, that's for sure. That usually didn't happen. Body burned, fire died. He really wasn't feeling to hot. More specifically, he felt like he _was_ on fire. Okay, the fire could go away now.

His muscles felt wobbly. Everything was wavering. The fire... was getting closer and dimmer.

"Dean?"

_Sammy, what's happening? Sammy!_

...

"Smy. Sm. Sammmmm."

_When the hell did I fall asleep? Why the hell is it so hot in here? It's friggin' burning. I swear, if Sam let the car heat up this much in the summer, I'll kill him. Wait... the car? I wasn't in the car. Am I-? No, I can't be back in... I was just with Sam. I was! We were hunting. No, please, don't say it was all an illusion. I don't want to be back here. No! Please... Sammy!_

"Dean!"

_Wait, why is he here with me? No, Sammy, no. You can't be here. They'll hurt him. Run! Sammy! I can't scream! Why can't I scream! Sammy! You shouldn't be here! Anywhere but-_

"Dean."

_Alistair. He's mocking me. I can't do this all again. I can't. No, please. What the hell have you done to Sam? Where is he? Alistair. I swear if you hurt him-_

"Dean, please."

_Please? When did demons gain manners? And why does this one sound concerned? Sam's down here with me... and he's concerned about me? This isn't right._

"Dean!"

_Okay, now what the hell is going on! This can't be Hell. It just isn't. It's still so hot though. So, where am I! And why does it hurt to goddamn much? Sammy!_

"Sm. Smmmmmy."

_What the... That's coming from my mouth. I know it. Seriously, when did I fall asleep?_

"Smy. Sam."

_Wake up, damn it. Wake up!_

"Dean!"

"Smmmy. Sam. Sammy."

_Ugh, not feeling too hot here. Head hurts. Wake up. Open your eyes! Come on._

"Sam?"

_Finally. Light. Well, sort of. It's actually still kind of dark in here. Or out here? Smells like outside. Just a little further. Ah, there._

Dean finally opens his eyes, looking groggily at his surroundings. Wow, he was still at the graveyard, on his back, with a very worried little brother hovering way too close. Even in this dim light, Dean can see Sam's relief.

"Dean, how're you feeling?"

"What happened?" His voice scratched. And damn it if he wasn't hot!

"You just fainted on me man. I think you muttered that you were hot, then just collapsed. You almost fell right into the fire, you idiot!"

Fire. Right. That would explain why he was feeling a little toasty. But this hot?

"Sammmm," Dean slurred.

"Okay, we're getting you out of here. I'll finish with the fire and we're gone. We need to get you back."

Dean felt a cool weight on his forehead and soon saw the overly large fingers of his brother. Already he was getting embarrassed. "Sammm."

"Deal with it, dude. You're sweating. I think you have a fever. How are you feeling otherwise?"

"Jussst peachy."

Sam huffed.

Dean felt those sausage fingers manipulate at his neck, probably trying to find a pulse. But this heat... it was getting to him. His head felt so light. And every part of his body just seemed to hurt. A few minutes of sleep wouldn't hurt. Before he'd even thunk that thought, he was out... and Hell was back. He was just getting way too popular.

Few minutes, few hours. Eh, Sam would live. But he sure was persistent. He felt like he was bouncing around. Like a friggin' merry-go-round. Dean just wished his brother would leave him in peace, or what peace he was getting from Hell. Why wasn't he waking up? He usually woke up by now? Why wasn't he-

"What's he got?" Dean definitely did not know that voice. Sam did not sound like a 60-year-old woman... most days. That voice had his attention though.

"From what we got from his brother, they ate in that diner down the road from here. There was that Campylobacter breakout." Doctor. Must be the doctor.

"Food poisoning?"

Food poisoning? How the hell did he get food poisoning? That was a couple hours ago. He only ate the chicken taco.

"This is definitely one of the more serious cases. We need to start him on Erythromycin."

Erthy-what? Sammy? What are they doing to me? What is going on? Was Sammy sick too? Dean wished they'd stop that damn rumbling. It made his headache worse. And god, his muscles hurt! And still so friggin' hot!

_Can't take it any more. Just can't! _And Dean was out again. Only to be greeted by Hellhounds at his heels. Hell went slowly. Each pain he felt extravagantly magnified. Everything hurt. His head, his stomach, his muscles... even a place that had no right to be hurting was hurting. His brain kind of hurt. Too much thinking? _Told you so, Sam! Thinking is bad!_

Sam! They said food poisoning! He ate at the diner too! What if he was feeling as bad as Dean was? Immediately Dean was pushing through his foggy mind, determined to reach his brother. He was obviously succeeding. As slow as it felt, he was leaving Hell behind and was greeted with more heat with a chill at the same time. There was an insistent beep in the background. And there was a pressure on his head. Dean opened his eyes, non-too-groggily this time.

And once more, there were sausage fingers on his forehead. "Sam, you can read my temperature. Get your hands off of me." Okay, so maybe his voice sounded stronger in his head, for Sam only laughed. And Dean heard a little sigh in there too. Relief?

"How're you feeling?"

Dean could finally see his brother, without the darkness of night, or the fear of Hell. His brother was safe, minus the white patch on his forehead - doesn't look like a concussion - and he looked worried.

"What happened?" Seriously? Food poisoning? He didn't eat that much. But he was in a hospital bed.

"You have Campylobacteriosis, young man." The 60-year-old woman. Dean didn't need to look to know that voice. "There was a breakout at the diner down the road. Apparently all their chicken was infected with it, and not cooked properly. You must have eaten a lot of it to get in this serious of condition, though."

Okay, well maybe his three tacos would do that.

"How do you feel?" _Sammy, don't give me that voice._

"Sore." That sure wasn't a lie.

The nurse seemed to like the sound of her own voice. "I don't doubt it. Symptoms of Campylobacteriosis include fever, headaches, muscle weakness, and you have a catheter-"

"Okay! Got it," Dean's rough voice said embarrassingly.

"Will he be okay?"

"Well, seeing as he's awake, and his temperature is down from a couple hours ago, yea, I'd say he's going to be fine. Probably won't have any long term damage either." And with that the nurse walked out... finally. Sam really didn't need to know about all the other tubes sticking out of his body.

"Man, don't ever do that to me again."

Dean only blinked at Sam.

"You fainted, then you were squirming all over the places, complaining it was hot. You sounded like you were dying. Man, Dean, I thought you were dying! ... Are you going to say anything?"

"I don't think I want tacos again for a while."

It was Sam's turn to blink.

"Dude, you are such a friggin' jerk!"

"Get used to it, bitch."

**End**

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**A/N**: I think this is one of my first stories that I've ended with their jerk, bitch exchange. Yay me! I really hope it worked for you, Mad Server, and everyone else! Please review!


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